<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>i have promises to keep (formerly called 'hunter') by Anonymous</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23987119">i have promises to keep (formerly called 'hunter')</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>and miles to go before i sleep [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(it's not phil), Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Adoptive Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Alternate Universe, Angst, Asexual Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Bounty Hunter Zak Ahmed, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, M/M, Mild Swearing, Minor Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Neglect, Sad Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Zak Ahmed, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, Sort Of, Technoblade Has ADHD (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Has PTSD (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo and Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Vigilante Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), author tag: lcmc, it's not really talked about much but it's there :D, no beta we die like... u'll see :)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 18:08:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,975</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23987119</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This wasn't his fault. He came to warn them. They just hadn't acted fast enough.<br/>"I'm sorry," he whispered.<br/>She gave him the softest smile she could muster. "It's okay." </p><p> </p><p>After a deadly shooting that left only one alive, Technoblade is the most wanted man in the world. Being framed for crimes he didn't commit, only report, there's a massive bounty of 140k sitting on his head.<br/>To pay for his schooling, and his third of rent, Skeppy plans on claiming that bounty as his own.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>F1NN5TER &amp; Darryl Noveschosch, Technoblade &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson, Zak Ahmed &amp; Darryl Noveschosch, Zak Ahmed &amp; F1NN5TER, Zak Ahmed/Technoblade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>and miles to go before i sleep [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138631</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>essay alert:<br/>this story features (eventually) a relationship between techno and skeppy- NOT dave and zak. if you even think for one measly moment i'm shipping creators you're WRONG. and if u do so your kneecaps will. belong. to.me. &gt;:D also this tag is straight-up dead an i wish to revive it. pls,,,, they consume my thoughts</p><p>please don't send this fic to any content creators and if they express they're uncomfy w shipping (as of rn i do not know that either skeppy or techno are uncomfy w it but I might just take it down regardless) i will do what i'm gonna do inevitably and just make it original lmao. they're already kinda ooc anyway so it wouldn't be a huge loss for the fic.</p><p>i'm really proud of this fandom and how far it's come, before there literally weren't tags for these guys as they had around 50 works on the archive and now they've got literal thousands. if you're new, welcome! <i> to hell. </i> (/j) it's great to have you here and i hope you enjoy and support a good and uplifting community :]</p><p>i'm writing this as anon despite the fact it was originally on my profile because i don't want any hate for this fic, please don't bring hate here. we're just tryin to have a good time and this fic will <i> never </i> (and i repeat <i> never) </i> be negative towards or negatively affect techno n skep so there's no good reason to hate on it :)</p><p>okay so just some warnings: <b> this fic will feature descriptions of mass violence and shootings. this will be brought up several times over the course of the story and the plot focuses on it. </b> if you think you might find this triggering PLEASE do not read this story, take care of yourself and your mental health and do what you believe is best for you &lt;3.</p><p>uhh that's prolly enough in the note. gl hf ???? ig ?????</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey! this chapter contains <b> graphic depictions of violence, gun violence, blood, and death. </b> if any of these things trigger you, please stay safe!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was Mara's last week of work.</p><p> </p><p>After she made it through the massive crowds, demanding guests, and high levels of stress, she would be free to attend college. Her grades would thank her for not having 6-hour shifts every weeknight. </p><p> </p><p>All she had to do was deal with these snobby rich people first, and then she was home free.<br/>
 </p><p>The chaos of many conversations enveloped her, surrounding her with chatter. She could only catch a few words from each table she passed. A woman with rubies dangling from her ears will say "so of course I told her no," and then Mara would be on to the next table, where a mother would be murmuring into her child's ear, and then Mara would be on to the next table. This was one of her favorite parts of working in the restaurant- she got to be a part of so many people's lives, even if just for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>"Here's your water, sir," she said, gently setting the glass onto the table in front of the man in the suit. He acknowledged her with a small nod of his head, and went back to discussing whatever he was talking about with his party. </p><p> </p><p>She glided through the arrangement of tables, squeezing past pulled-out chairs and large groups of people with ease. Her new destination was a booth on the back wall, a new customer that she had been assigned to wait on. It was a young boy, sitting alone, his menu pressed down on the table in front of him. He seemed to be around her brother’s age, dressed in normal attire for her restaurant, except for the small bandanna adorning the bottom half  of his face. She paused for a moment, struggling to come up with an explanation of why he was wearing a mask. Was he sick? Was he embarrassed of his chin? Was this any of her business? No. She shrugged, knowing from her months spent in this restaurant that her pay wasn’t enough to justify asking questions about her guests. </p><p> </p><p>One question managed to wiggle through, however- how was he going to eat?</p><p> </p><p>“Hello,” she started once she’d arrived, making the young boy jump and turn to look at her. Her eyebrows knitted together before she continued. “My name is Mara, I’ll be your server for today. Can I start you off with something to drink, or is someone else coming...?” she asked the boy, trying to be careful to not startle him more.</p><p> </p><p>He slowly shook his head. “No, uh. No one else is coming. It’s only me.” His body language was strange, she noticed. He was leaning away from her, his head hanging, eyes darting around the room frantically. She suspected that there was something else going on, something that either she wasn't supposed to know or wasn't supposed to figure out. Was he was stood up, and embarrassed because of it? Was he just waiting on his parents, or worried he wouldn't have enough for dinner? </p><p> </p><p>Now that Mara was closer, however, she could hear his voice. Although it was muffled from his bandanna, she could sense some of his panic leaking through. He sounded as if something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. </p><p> </p><p>“Is everything alright, sir?” she asked before she could stop herself, for once her worry for a guest overriding her need to sleep at night. </p><p> </p><p>He looked up, and she could see the fear resonating in his eyes now. He looked as if something was going to pop up from underneath the table and scare him so bad he would pee his pants. Her concern for this strange guest grew. </p><p> </p><p>“May I sit down?”</p><p> </p><p>The young boy nodded, and she lowered herself into the booth across him, leaning forward on the table. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s going on, sir?" He gulped, turning to look away from her. Mara frowned and pressed on. "You seem to be in some sort of distress, and while I may not know why I can assure you I’ll be able to help.” </p><p> </p><p>She could see the widening of his eyes as she talked, before he suddenly cleared his throat. “I-uh... it’s nothing-” he tried to say, before he coughed. “I mean- I... no, it’s not nothing.” He met her gaze, the weight of a thousand suns filling at the features she could see. Mara leaned back, surprised at his immediate intensity.</p><p> </p><p>“If I don’t do something to stop it, people are going to die here today.”</p><p> </p><p>She blinked. Once, then twice. His face didn't change, he didn't falter, and not once did his eyes appear crazy. His face was completely solemn, the way he told her, the gravity of his statement- he believed it. </p><p> </p><p>Mara's brain started going a thousand miles an hour, running through every explanation for his response but the one staring her in the face. He wasn't serious. It was a prank. He meant globally, he was talking about world hunger or climate change or whatever it was, not the guests sitting around her tables, not the staff she'd worked with for months, not the people she'd come to rely on, the people she'd filled in for and joked around with, not her <em>friends</em>- but what if he was right? What if there was a chance that people would die today <em>here</em>, in her restaurant?</p><p> </p><p>His conviction. His strange behavior. Even his bandanna. It made sense, in a sort of twisted, awful, unreasonable level. </p><p> </p><p>He said it would only happen if he didn't stop it, so she was going to help him stop it.</p><p> </p><p>She took a deep breath and opened her mouth to say something encouraging, to reassure the boy that she believed him. To start the development of a plan, to ask if he had any suspects, to ask <em>when</em> today, to ask if he had called the police, to ask what kind of danger- to ask how he knew for certain. </p><p> </p><p>Instead of words, however, a deafening <em>bang</em> echoed across the room. </p><p> </p><p>Time seemed to slow down. Mara jumped up, her head turning and surveying the restaurant, searching for the source of the noise. Guests looked up, stopping their conversations and looking about the room, their eyes furrowing. One table jolted to their seats, sending silverware and dishes flying. </p><p> </p><p>It took Mara's ears a second to process the screaming. A man's body slumped over in his chair at the standing table, red spreading over his chest as his table scattered. A tall man dressed in black, with a face covering and a hat, was standing across from him, a gun in his outstretched hand.</p><p> </p><p>She refused to acknowledge it. There was no way. It was impossible. Not now. They had to make a plan, do something, it couldn't start <em>now</em>-</p><p> </p><p>A second <strong><em>bang</em></strong>, even louder than the first, shattered the silence that had fallen. This time she automatically knew what it was. </p><p> </p><p>Gunshots.</p><p> </p><p>The boy was right.</p><p> </p><p>Mara turned to him, panic and fear and all sorts of emotions she couldn't name rushing through her all at once. He'd ducked under the table, fear etched in a seemingly permanent way into his features. She slid down with him, taking shelter under the tabletops she'd been cleaning for months. Her mouth was wide open- she couldn't stop gaping.</p><p> </p><p>There was no way. There was no <em>way</em>. </p><p> </p><p>She dug into her pockets, fumbling past straws and napkins and silverware to reach her phone. She pulled it out quickly and opened it, hitting emergency call as fast as her fingers would allow.</p><p> </p><p>Another shot rang out, and she looked up to see someone in a beautiful blue dress fall to the ground with a thud, a dark red liquid spilling onto the floor around them. </p><p> </p><p>She had to hold her hand over her mouth to avoid throwing up. People were dying and there was nothing she could do about it. </p><p> </p><p>"911, what's your emergency?" Mara gasped and turned the volume on her phone down, pressing it up to her ear as she took in a shaky breath.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm at a restaurant in downtown-" <em><strong>bang, </strong></em>"there's a man shooting and-" <strong><em>bang</em></strong>. Mara flinched and nearly dropped her phone, having to take in a deep breath in order to steady herself. "People have fallen, there's blood, and I'm scared. Please hurry, please-" There was another <em><strong>bang</strong></em>, a scream louder than all of the rest, and a table was knocked over with a large <em><strong>boom</strong> </em>as they fell. She gave the receiver the address as she tried to calm herself, to be as clear as possible, to <em>please hurry</em> before she hung up. They wanted to try to keep her on the line to have her stay as long as she possibly could, but she couldn't risk her safety. The shooter would hear her. They <em>would</em>.</p><p> </p><p>(There was no way, the back of her mind kept chanting. This wasn't happening to her. Not here, not now, not ever. There was no way. This was just some dream, a nightmare gone awry.)</p><p> </p><p>Mara took a moment to assess her surroundings. The bangs had slowed down as more and more people had found hiding spots, most of those too slow dead on the ground. She counted four people on the right side of the restaurant on the floor, pools of red liquid surrounding them. She averted her gaze and saw people crouched under tables and booths, like she and the boy were.</p><p> </p><p>She looked back at him, carefully meeting his eyes. His face was sheet white, eyes wide with his eyebrows furrowed together so tightly he'd have wrinkles from today alone. How he could've known about today's attack was anyone's guess, but she knew he wasn't associated. This wasn't his fault. He came to warn them and they just hadn't acted fast enough. She saw him take a shaky breath and he pointed to the other side of the room. She followed his line of sight, her eyes darting from those fallen <em>(this isn't real,</em> her mind kept chanting) to an unblocked exit. She sighed at the sight, letting some of the tension drop from her shoulders as she looked back at the boy. He was watching something else, with growing horror even worse than his was previously, if that was even possible. Again she turned and looked at whatever was grasping his attention. </p><p> </p><p>Dark sweatpants with bottoms soaked in a darker red were stepping closer, nearing their hiding spot. It only took a second before Mara knew it was the killer. </p><p> </p><p>The exit was their only hope and she was about to seize it. Before she moved from under the table, though, she turned and looked at the boy. She gestured him to come with her, pointing to the exit. "We could make it," she whispered. "We can get out of here." He shrunk back, settling himself further under the table. She felt her face fall. "Kid, we could escape. Are you sure you want to stay?" </p><p> </p><p>He looked torn between the safety under the table, with the hope of the police arriving and intervention, and a possible way to end the horror (<em>this can't be happening, this can't be happening)</em> and she gestured forward again, only for him to press himself against the pole of the table. </p><p> </p><p><em>If you don't hurry up you'll all die with or without him, just leave him</em> whispered part of her mind. <em>This isn't real anyway,</em> the other side responded. She sighed and pulled her hand back. </p><p> </p><p>Mara turned from him and looked towards the door, slowly creeping from the shadow of the tabletop to the nearest chair. Her movement caught the eye of the others hiding, and she looked at all she could, pointing towards the table and keeping another finger to her lips. Exit. Be quiet.</p><p> </p><p>A few of them nodded, expressions a mixture of serious, dire, and scared. Someone darted upwards and went to make a dash for the door.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <strong>Bang.</strong> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She winced <em>(this can't be happening),</em> and a body thudded to the ground. </p><p> </p><p>She kept her gaze off of it the best she could, like all the others, like the stench of blood filling the air and making it harder for her to breathe steadily with every moment she thought of it. She pointed to the exit again. They all slowly started shuffling to the door.</p><p> </p><p>Mara crawled under and around the tables and chairs, using them to the best of her ability for cover against the man in the dark sweatpants, working her way to the door leading to escape. </p><p> </p><p>She passed the body of the small child from earlier, pressed up against their mother, curled into her side in a way that only children can do. </p><p> </p><p>There was no time to mourn, she told the tears blurring her vision. They have to leave. There will be time later. They have to escape.</p><p> </p><p>Sniffles came from the group she was slowly herding towards the exit, carefully maneuvering around the puddles of red on the floor, the fallen chairs, the slumped forms.<em> So many. No time. (Not me, not now.)</em></p><p> </p><p>She bumped into one of their smaller tables as she was trying to move around a fallen chair, and she stopped, her heartbeat leaping into her throat as she froze. The table shook and moved slightly, the noise only audible if you were looking for it, the movement so small it was hardly detectable. </p><p> </p><p>She'd be okay, she told herself. She'd be alright, she'd be fine. She just had to keep moving forward before he noticed and it would all be okay. This wasn't a fatal mistake, it was miniscule, it was small, it was-</p><p> </p><p>The table she'd bumped into moved and she'd missed the sound of footsteps coming her direction. Stained sweatpants stood next to her. Her breath hitched. <em>She'd be okay, she'd be fine, if she didn't move he wouldn't notice, it'd be alright, it'd be-</em></p><p> </p><p>He leaned down and looked at her.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes were dark and cold, disconnected. He wasn't some madman doing this for no reason- he was calculated and methodical and there had to be some purpose he was serving by being here because people like him, with hands reaching towards their gun and blood-stained fingers, didn't just to shoot a place up, they thought, they planned, they schemed, and they-</p><p> </p><p>They would shoot her. He was reaching for his gun. <em>No. No no no no no nono no no nononono nononono nonononono<strong>no, no, no, please no-</strong></em></p><p> </p><p>She scrambled forward, going as fast as she possibly could to escape him. How did he manage to get over to her so quickly, without her noticing at all? Was she just distracted? <em>How</em>?</p><p> </p><p>She heard a sad sigh from behind her, and a click. Then a <em><strong>bang</strong></em>. The table next to her made a large piercing sound as the bullet went through it, and she had to force herself to not cover her ears. To keep moving forward. </p><p> </p><p>She wove her way through the legs of tables, tipping as many possible behind her to buy time. Each crash signaling one had fallen was victory in her eyes. The shots firing to her back kept increasing, and out of the corner of her eye she could see people falling. Her breathing was heavy, her hands were scraped, her knees were hurting and she thought her legs were going to give out at any moment but she continued on.</p><p> </p><p>Thudded footsteps followed, taking their time to step over the crisscross of metal she'd left in her wake. The shots had slowed down, if only slightly, but he was definitely following her and not chasing anyone else. </p><p> </p><p>That worried her and made her feel better. He was going after her, so attention was off of everyone else, and she was buying the police time. But could he get her? Would he easily be able to take her down?</p><p> </p><p>Another <strong><em>bang</em> </strong>echoed across the floor and it took her body a second to recognize the deep burning in her chest as pain. She gasped and stopped in the middle of her desperate crawl to look down, and saw what used to be her pristine work uniform coated in blood. Blood pouring from a hole in her chest.</p><p> </p><p><em>Shit</em>. </p><p> </p><p>She grabbed her apron, with whatever straws were left in the pocket tumbling out, and pressed it up against her throbbing wound. She had to be fast or the loss of blood would kill her before he did.</p><p> </p><p>The thought of dying now, alone, while trying to stall a mass killer, made her want to throw up.</p><p> </p><p>Her apron was quickly soaked through, deemed useless, and she looked around for something else to stop her bleeding.</p><p> </p><p>Instead what she saw was that everyone she'd been leading out were strewn across the floor, their eyes blank, shot dead. </p><p> </p><p>Mara turned towards the boy, up against the other side of the room. (She'd made it so far, only to die here) His face was pale. His hand was covering his mouth, although his bandanna was doing a fine job of that, she deliriously thought.</p><p> </p><p>She met his gaze, her eyes pleading, begging him to do something, anything-</p><p> </p><p>Then there was another bang and everything went dark.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. the rush</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>let's pretend it's not been... *checks watch* nine months, alright? chapters will be a LOT more consistent and fast :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Dammit, dammit, dammit," Techno mouthed, too out of breath to say the words. His heavy boots thumped against the concrete, the pounding filling his ears as he ran along the streets.</p><p> </p><p>A quick and hopefully discreet glance behind him told him what he already knew. Two people were following him, trying to lag behind unsuccessfully. They appeared to be making an effort to stay inconspicuous- one was wearing a blue sweatshirt, the hood pulled up over their head, most likely to try and block it from his view. They were accompanied by a taller boy in a grey shirt who looked stone-cold bored. Disinterested? Perhaps he was dragged to follow him by The Boy In Blue, who seemed overly enthusiastic to follow him. Techno couldn't see their face, but from they way that they weaved around people and their head was kept forward and focused- they cared a big deal about chasing him.</p><p> </p><p>They knew who he was and they were pursuing. He wasn't entirely certain if Grey-Shirt knew, or if he thought his friend was just a strange stalker, but Blue knew. Blue knew and was after him.</p><p> </p><p>Their reasoning probably lied amongst the 140,000 dollars promised to the person to take down and bring in the one-and-only Blood God, after all. Hell, if he wasn't the one they were all after he'd probably be doing the same. Who wouldn't risk their life for a reward that big? </p><p> </p><p>He turned a corner onto a busy street, doing his best to weave through the crowds of people before he ducked into a roofed bus stop on the sidewalk, tearing off his bandanna and top jacket before stuffing them into his backpack as quickly as he could without drawing too much attention to himself. The ads on the side of the small enclosure should be enough to conceal him but he wasn't taking any chances, popping the hood of his sweatshirt up to cover the back of his head before slinging his bag onto his back. He had to lose those two and this was the best way to do it- they'd be looking for a tall boy with pink wrapped around his chin and a red and white jacket, and he would be in the clear. </p><p> </p><p>He shuffled out into a nearby crowd, keeping his head down but being careful of where he was walking anyway. If someone hadn't seen him change, they wouldn't of noticed anything off, and he lived in a big city- while someone was bound to have seen him, they were also likely to not give a single <em>heck</em> about some weird teenage kid who vaguely matched the description for the world's most wanted killer. However, if he'd bumped into someone, the disruption in the flow of traffic was sure to cause unwanted attention.</p><p> </p><p>Techno managed to escape off onto a separate street, quickly loading into one of the city's buses before triple-checking that he was no longer being followed, and he checked the time quickly on his phone.</p><p> </p><p>Half-past six. He groaned. He was late for dinner.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>He walked into the house, shutting the door behind him with a creak. The smell of spaghetti filled his nose and suddenly Techno was hungry. Phil's car had been parked in the driveway, which meant that they'd probably made dinner and were just waiting on him to arrive.</p><p> </p><p>"Techno!" two voices called from the dining room. His face broke out into a smile as his two little brothers, Tubbo and Tommy, came rushing around the corner to the main hallway. He opened his arms just in time as they plowed into him, knocking him against the door with a grunt as they giggled.</p><p> </p><p>"You're late!" Tommy said, looking up at him with a pout. "You almost missed dinner again, idiot!"</p><p> </p><p>Techno laughed. "I'm so sorry, Toms. I'll make sure I never miss a single dinner ever again." At Tommy's skeptical look, he unraveled his hand from around them to push a fist against his chest. "Scout's honor."</p><p> </p><p>"You're not even a scout," he mumbled, burying his head back into Techno's chest. </p><p> </p><p>"Why were you so late anyway?" Tubbo asked.</p><p> </p><p>"Lost track of time tutoring," Techno said, the lie rolling off his tongue easily. Of course he didn't <em>like</em> lying to his family, especially to his brothers, but it's not like he could tell them the truth. Imagine one day he responded with 'haha yeah, you know how I'm the most <em>wanted man</em> on Earth? Was out doing wanted man things, lol, so sorry it ran late.' His brothers alone would freak out, much less <em>Phil</em>.</p><p> </p><p>That's why he worked so hard to keep his secret a... well... <em>secret</em>. If his family knew they would never trust him again- not to mention the potential grounding he would receive for being a world-renowned 'villain.' <em>Besides</em>, the paranoid part of him whispered, t<em>he danger they would be in if anyone knew</em>. </p><p> </p><p>"That's the third time this month, Techno," Phil's voice echoed from the dining room. "I know you can do better, alright?"</p><p> </p><p>He sighed. "Right." Slowly detaching his complaining brothers from his legs, he set his backpack by the stairs before heading into the dining room. Phil was sitting at the table, which by itself was a rarity- he was always so busy these days that it was more odd to see him eating with them than not. There were four bowls on the table- two nearly empty, one half-eaten, and one left untouched for him. Techno frowned. "Is Wilbur eating in his room again?"</p><p> </p><p>Phil nodded. "He's busy with schoolwork for all of his honors classes- you remember how junior year is."</p><p> </p><p>"Of course I do, I just can't help but..." he trailed off, looking up the stairs. "I can't help but be a little worried about him." </p><p> </p><p>Phil sighed, following Techno's gaze up the stairs. "I know, I am too, but he's got it under control. He'll reach out if he ever needs our help."</p><p> </p><p>Techno couldn't bury the feeling that something was off, but he trusted Phil, and he was right- Wilbur knew his limits. He pulled his chair out and sat down at the table as Tommy and Tubbo rushed back into the room, both of them giggling. </p><p> </p><p>The clinking of forks filled the room, silent besides the small murmurs and breaks of laughter between his younger brothers as they finished the meal they left so easily to greet him while Techno scarfed down his own.</p><p> </p><p>"So," Phil started. "How did your tutoring go?"</p><p> </p><p>He shrugged. "It went alright- not extremely terrible, but not particularly wonderful either."</p><p> </p><p>He hummed, tracing the inside of his empty bowl with the tip of his fork. "What were you tutoring today?"</p><p> </p><p>"Math. Pre-calc."</p><p> </p><p>"Pre-calc? But it's been nearly two years since you took that class, you still remember it that well?"</p><p> </p><p>Techno looked up to the soft grin on his father's face. Warmth flooded his chest. "Yeah, dad, that's why I can tutor it. Of course I remember it."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm honestly impressed by your ability to-" </p><p> </p><p>He was interrupted by the sound of someone coming downstairs and the clink of dishes. They all looked up and saw Wilbur was making his way downstairs, a couple plates in hand as he came down. Tommy and Tubbo hopped out of their seats for the customary if-you-don't-steady-yourself-we'll-knock-you-over hug, and Techno smiled wide. </p><p> </p><p>"Long time no see," he commented as Wilbur was nearly shoved down the stairs. </p><p> </p><p>He laughed, a light and airy sound. "It's been so many years, Technoblade," he responded with his usual dramatic flair. "I had almost forgotten the sound of your voice."</p><p> </p><p>A protesting Tommy and Tubbo were pulled from Wilbur's legs as he reached the end of the stairs, Techno barely over-hearing something about how they nearly killed him before all sounds was cut off by a chime from Phil's phone. </p><p> </p><p>They all stopped and he looked down at it with a frown. </p><p> </p><p>It started vibrating, lighting up. Phil looked concerned as he picked it up and answered the call with an "'Ello?"</p><p> </p><p>He couldn't hear what the person on the other line was saying from across the table, but their tone was urgent and he saw his dad's face go from worried to pale. "Here?" he whispered. "What did they say he was doing?"</p><p> </p><p>Techno felt a knot form in his stomach. There was no way he was talking about what he <em>thought</em> he was talking about, right? </p><p> </p><p>"Of course. Yes. I'll be right there." The phone was shut off and Phil looked at them, apologetic as always as he gathered his dishes and rose from his seat. "Work called. I've got to go."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Oh no.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"What was it?" Wilbur asked. "Was it something about..." he could hear the indecision in his voice as he tried to avoid saying the name that hung over their family. "Something about <em>him</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>Phil nodded and Techno felt his chest tighten.</p><p> </p><p>"I really shouldn't be telling you all this but... there's been reports of a Blood God sighting."</p><p> </p><p>"Shit," he muttered. His next breath out was shaky. "Where?" <em>Act as if you don't know, act as if you don't know-</em></p><p> </p><p>"Here. Downtown."</p><p> </p><p>Techno heard Wilbur's sharp intake and Tommy and Tubbo were still as they processed what that meant. He felt the blood rush from his face. <em>Either someone figured out who he was (unlikely) or those two were doing exactly what he thought they were doing.</em></p><p> </p><p>"They need me there to help interview the witness." <em>Witness. Singular.</em> He put his dishes in the sink before heading over and giving his younger brothers quick kisses on their heads. "I'll be back. Has anyone seen my briefcase?"</p><p> </p><p>He nodded. "It's by the door, on the left side."</p><p> </p><p>"Thank you, son." Phil pecked his forehead and gently ruffled Wilbur's hair with a smile before he headed towards the entryway, the sound of the door shutting signifying he'd left them in stunned silence. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm goin' to..." he rose from his chair, pushing it back in behind him. "I'm goin' to finish this up in my room." He picked his plate up with his left hand and went over to his bag, swinging it over onto his back with a <em>thud</em>. "G'night."</p><p> </p><p>He climbed the stairs carefully, trying his best not to drop any of his mostly-full bowl. Slowly approaching his room, he nudged down the partially open door and walked in, setting his food on his desk before shutting the door behind him.</p><p> </p><p>Techno put his backpack down, zipping it open with a sigh. <em>So he'd been found out.</em> That kinda sucked, didn't it? But it was no matter.</p><p> </p><p>He unlocked his phone and opened the pictures he'd taken earlier. <em>There</em>.</p><p> </p><p>A clear shot of the two people that were following him.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>"And you're absolutely <em>sure</em> it was him?"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Yes</em>," Zak groaned. "It was the red jacket, the pink bandanna, the way he seemed so aware of his surroundings- everything! I'm telling you, it was Blood God!"</p><p> </p><p>The officer rubbed their eyes, their frustration just as evident as his own. "Why would Blood God be <em>downtown</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>"Why don't you ask him! If I knew how the mind of Blood God worked do you think we would be sitting here?"</p><p> </p><p>The door creaked open. Officer Watson stepped in, looking disheveled. He didn't seem surprised to see Zak sitting in the chair, from the resigned look on his face. </p><p> </p><p>"Skeppy. A pleasure as always."</p><p> </p><p>He couldn't help the glare forming on his features. "Why hello, <em>Officer</em>. It's so nice to see you. How are the kids?"</p><p> </p><p>Watson met the policemen Zak had been talking to's eyes, the two sharing a small conversation with just head wiggles and eyebrows until the latter stood up to let him through. <em>Finally</em>, he thought, the exasperation clear even in his own head.</p><p> </p><p>The person heading out the door shut it behind them, leaving only Watson and Zak in the room. "So, Skeppy," he started. "About this-"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, I'm sure it was Blood, yes, he was downtown, and <em>yes</em>, he didn't see me," he said, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair, trying his best to make his frustration as clear as possible. "We don't have <em>time</em> for this, he could be out there hurting innocent people right now!"</p><p> </p><p>"But he's not." </p><p> </p><p>"You don't know that! What if he is? What if he's killing tens, or hundreds, or even <em>thousands</em> of people!" He sat forward, his nose scrunching and his brow being so furrowed it was giving him a headache. "I'm not going to let more get hurt because you decided to come in and interrogate me instead of trying to find him like you should be!"</p><p> </p><p>Watson sighed, pushing his glasses up as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Look, Zak, I'm going to level with you."</p><p> </p><p>"About time," he grumbled.</p><p> </p><p>"Is this because the anniversary is coming up?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"What?"</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Listen, kid, I know it's been nearly three years since what happened but-"</p><p> </p><p>"No." Zak shot forward, his anger clear as day on his face. "How <em>dare</em> you accuse me of lying! I know the anniversary is soon, but that's not why I came here at all! I <em>saw</em> him, he was running through the streets and I-"</p><p> </p><p>"And what, Zak?" Watson interrupted. "Did you chase him? Alert him in any way? Did you <em>let him get away</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>His cheeks flushed red with embarrassment and he turned away, refusing to look at Watson.</p><p> </p><p>"That's what I thought."</p><p> </p><p>"I at least got a lead! I found him! I followed him! I <em>saw</em> him, which is more than you've ever done in the three years of so-called 'detective work' or whatever bullshit excuse you use!" </p><p> </p><p>"That's <em>enough</em>." Watson's tone turned cold and Zak had to keep himself from flinching back. He turned back towards the officer and saw he had risen from his seat, moving towards the door. "Thank you for filing the report. We'll look into any leads we can find. But for now, you're free to leave." </p><p> </p><p>Zak got the hint and left the room as quickly as he could.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>He trudged through the puddles outside of the police station. While he was inside it had started raining, hard (despite it being the middle of <em>January</em>), and he hadn't bothered to bring anything beyond his usual hoodie. It was quickly getting soaked as he was doing nothing to duck from the rain, knowing that he'd reach Maximum Wetness long before he got home. He reached into his hoodie's pocket and pulled out his phone, leaning over it in an attempt to protect it from the rain. He unlocked it and typed out a quick message to his roommate, letting him know that he'd finished up and would be home soon.</p><p> </p><p>He felt the buzz of getting a text back more than actually seeing it. It took a moment of cleaning off his glasses and rapidly wiping down his phone (it only served to make it more wet but at least it was a more condensed wet) for him to actually read the message, and boy was he grateful.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Bad</strong><br/>
Do you need me to pick you up? It's raining quite hard</p><p> </p><p>He typed a reply out as best he could with his wet screen.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Zak</strong><br/>
thad be v apprecated</p><p> </p><p><strong>Bad</strong><br/>
I'm on my way</p><p> </p><p>He let out a huff, watching the air steam around his breath as he waited for his best friend to pick him up. Of course he'd have to deal with his worry over Zak's wellbeing (as well as being scolded for not texting him in the first place so he didn't get wet at all) but that would be better than walking the rest of the way to their small apartment. <em>Anything</em> would be better than spending one more single second in the downpour.</p><p> </p><p>As he waited for Bad's car to pull up, Zak scrolled through Twitter, refreshing his home page when nothing interesting or new was popping up. Until something was.</p><p> </p><p><strong>County Police Force</strong> (@localpolicestation)<br/>
Head of the taskforce focused on finding Blood God, the most wanted man in the country, reports new sightings and updated information, urging "any with information to come forward"<em> fbi.com/wantedpersons...</em></p><p> </p><p>"<em>Already</em>?" he shouted, his surprise getting the better of him. He quickly looked up and scanned the area, seeing no one near enough to be annoyed by him as the rain kept most of them indoors, so he continued. "They've already released a report?!" <em>I was in there like twenty minutes ago, what?</em></p><p> </p><p>Zak clicked on the link the tweet provided, being redirected to the homescreen of the website he knew like the back of his hand, surprised to find that they had actually managed to retrieve security footage of Blood and plaster it to the top of their site. Then again, he probably wasn't the only one to recognize the signature jacket and bandanna combination. Maybe he wasn't even the first one to report it. </p><p> </p><p>That train of thought only made him more frustrated. If he wasn't the first to call it in, <em>why</em> did they make such a big deal out of grilling him? And who got to it first?</p><p> </p><p>The full weight of the news report hit him- while there were many people out looking for Blood, this sighting after so many months in the dark was sure to draw more attention to their area from other bounty hunters. He already had the task force to deal with and now he might have more experienced people coming in to take that wanted man in. This could mess up <em>everything</em> and he'd been too excited about his discovery, about him actually doing something to realize. </p><p> </p><p>He'd screwed himself over. <em>Shit</em>.</p><p> </p><p>A honk startled him out of his thoughts, pulling his gaze upwards as he shielded his eyes from the buckets of rain falling. Bad's beat-up red car was parked in front of him, and he put his phone away to dash over towards the passenger seat, quickly pulling at the door handle. The door didn't budge. </p><p> </p><p>"It's locked!" he yelled, pulling on the handle again to show Bad. "Unlock the door you-"</p><p> </p><p>With an <em>oomf</em> the door pulled wide open and he climbed in, shutting it behind him. The sound of the rain hitting the concrete dulled instantly, instead replaced with the water beating against the car's roof. He pushed his wet mop of hair to the side and out of his face, leaning over to look at Bad. "Thanks," he muttered.</p><p> </p><p>Bad said nothing as he started the car and they drove off.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hope you enjoyed chapter one! i'm still workin on the characterization of The Blade, but please lemme know if u think up anything. comments are always super duper appreciated <i> less than three </i><br/>also i know his alter ego bein called Blood God is wack but,,, originally we used techno's Real Life Human Name in this fic and i just think usin Blood (for short) is 10x better. lemme know if u think up anything else lmao</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey! thanks for reading! hoping to have some mildly consistent updates :D constructive criticism is always welcome and i don't currently have a beta, so any grammar/spelling mistakes you catch please let me know about in the comments.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>